


Little Bird

by WorldOfMidnight



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Blighters like to cause problems, F/M, Short Story, Slight surgical description
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 09:23:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13901055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorldOfMidnight/pseuds/WorldOfMidnight
Summary: While out and about in Southwark, Sybilla questions Jacob about the nickname for her. The night turns a bit sour when Blighters cause problems and she gets injured.





	Little Bird

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda got inspired by an Rp with a friend on Tumblr and thus, this fic was born.
> 
> I would also like to add that I’ve never written Jacob until now. ;~;

Two sets of footfalls could be heard thumping against the tin roof of an old factory in the outskirts of Southwark. “Let me ask you somethin’.” The Irishwoman’s voice came from his left as they slowed. “Where did you get my nickname?”

“Well, little bird,” Jacob replied, using said name, “Your surname is Crowe, the gang’s symbol is a Rook and both are a type of bird. That and I’m nearly a foot taller than you.” He gave a single, yet hearty laugh as Sybilla’s blue eyes told him to _shut the hell up._

“That’s not funny, Frye!” Sybilla’s tone was lightly scolding yet teasing as she gently slapped hit his arm. “You might want to be careful, since _I’m_ the one who fixes ya up after missions.”

“You wouldn’t leave me wounded.” Jacob shot back with that trademark smirk she was fond of. “From the first day we met, you were always treating my wounds. Besides, I don’t trust anyone else as much as I do you, little bird.”

The nickname had never failed to dust freckled cheeks with a pink tint. “Happy to hear you feel that way.” Sybilla gently nudged him. The two of them headed to the edge of the building and climbed down. Once their feet were planted, Jacob offered Sybilla his arm and the woman looped her around his. “Where we off to now?” She quizzed.

“I was thinking the nearest pub, that or cause a little trouble.” Jacob replied, placing the signature top hat on.

“I’m convinced you carry that hat everywhere!” Sybilla laughed as she gently tugged on its rim and the British Assassin only shrugged.

“What can I say, love?” He guided her around the corner. “It’s a part of me.” After a few moments, the two of them came across a fairly empty pub, aside from a small mix of workers, Rooks and Blighters. Of course, the Rooks greeted the two of them while the Blighters tossed glares that could rival Hades himself. “Looks like we could be expecting trouble.” Jacob whispered.

“We’ll handle it like always.” Sybilla grinned as they chose their beer. She took a swig and hummed appreciatively, the Doctor Garrett being the only beer so far that didn’t taste horrid or act like it was trying to kill you. “These people know how to make a beer!”

Jacob chuckled and hazel eyes found themselves glancing at the red clothed gang members, who glanced over themselves and left the building. This evening could go smoothly or go horribly wrong in the next few minutes. “Let’s head back, yeah?” Jacob gently grasped Sybilla’s arm, paid their tab and headed out the pub. Sure enough, the two Blighters returned with friends.

As did their own Rooks. The fight was over before it even began, the sounds of gunshots and blades clashing could be heard in the night. Soon, what Blighters didn’t flee now lay dead in the cobblestone street and the two now headed back to the hideout.

“You okay there, Sybilla?” Jacob asked as he witnessed the woman stumble.

“I think one of those Blighters got a hit in on my leg.” She pointed to the injured limb. Sure enough, blood had soaked a large area of her calf. “I think it’s a gunshot wound, I can feel it diggin’ around.” Before Sybilla’s brain could register it, a hand on her back and under the knees had lifted her off the ground.

“No sense in letting it get worse.” Jacob said. “I’ll help you to the train.” Within a few minutes, they found themselves standing on a railroad overpass, the train coming into view. “Hold on tight!” Jacob said and he jumped. If there was one thing she never got used to, it was jumping on the train. They landed on the roof with a thud and Jacob called for a couple of Rooks to help lower Sybilla into the train carriage and to the doctor. Once Jacob was inside, he could hear yelps of pain and was called into the back to hold Sybilla down. The Assassin could tell that she was as out of it as the doc could make her, but it was obvious that she was still in pain.

“I’ll need you ta’ hold down her leg.” The doctor’s voice hit his ears. “So that I can remove the bullet. Good news is that it hasn’t dug itself deeper and cause more damage. It’ll heal.” The doctor grabbed a small pair of pair of forceps and cleaned them before he began to dig in the wound. Jacob found himself grimacing and looking back to Sybilla as the sound of flesh squelching etched itself in his mind when the ball was removed. A gauze roll was wrapped around the wound and tied off before the doctor announced his was finished and disappeared into a different train carriage.

“How do you feel?” He quizzed when Sybilla became slightly more aware of her surroundings.

“ _I feel like shit._ ” Sybilla replied. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and throat a desert until the cool relief of water made its way down her throat. A hand-made quilt from Agnes was pulled over and a hand brushed back strands of copper hair, followed by a rough chuckle.

“Get some rest, little bird.”

 


End file.
